


Spearmint

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: M/M, Vampires, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 01:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21499324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: It’s best not to eat after brushed teeth.
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Spearmint

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Paul knows the medication’s still working because Hugh has a reflection, one that’s just as handsome and charming as it’s always been, as it was before that one alien got a little too close. It was supposed to change things, but it hasn’t really—their mismatched sleep schedules are easy enough to align in space, and Hugh has all the medical knowledge he needs to handle his cravings and withdrawals. They can still _be together_ , despite Hugh’s initial reservations, and they can still share all the same little moments, like brushing their teeth together in the small bathroom of their shared quarters. Paul can see Hugh’s reflection watching him, and his grin warps his mouth, his toothbrush coming out just long enough for him to say, “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Hugh counters, smiling too. He knows exactly what he’s doing. His eyes have that slight flicker of red to them that shows that _he means business_. It sends a shiver down Paul’s spine every time. He never could resist Hugh’s eyes, no matter what their colour. 

He fills in, “Looking at me like that after you’ve just brushed your teeth.”

Hugh snorts. He pauses to spit out a swathe of toothpaste, then returns to scrubbing everything, including the two little fangs that always seem to catch Paul’s eyes. Hugh mutters, “I can always brush them again.”

“You’re going to do it, then?”

Hugh’s quiet for a moment. Paul doesn’t press, because that’s not how the game works. Hugh slowly admits, “I don’t want to do it too often.” They both know that he does _want to_. But he _won’t_ , because he loves Paul that much. Which only makes Paul love him more. It’s a vicious cycle that keeps them both well loved and Hugh well fed. 

Paul stares back into Hugh’s reflected eyes and says, “I’ll do it as often as you like.”

He means it. Hugh’s expression hardens. He removes the toothbrush from his mouth. 

He turns his face, eyes hooked on Paul’s, and gently nuzzles into the crux of Paul’s neck. Paul’s breath catches, a tremor of pure _heat_ racing through him. It turns him on every time. It doesn’t matter if it hurts. It’s beautiful. And it’s so painfully _intimate_ —it binds them together so deeply, so profoundly, in a way that makes Paul’s spirit soar. He’s always proud to feed Hugh’s hunger. 

But Hugh pulls away and murmurs, “Another night. You need to preserve your blood.”

Paul swallows. Hugh might be right. Hugh bit him just two nights ago, though he’d still love another. The old marks are starting to fade. In the absence of his uniform, he can see them above the low collar of his shirt—two dark pinpricks in his throat. He wants new ones to wear with pride.

But he respects Hugh’s decision and hums, “So thoughtful.”

Hugh deposits his toothbrush in the cup and rinses out his mouth. When he’s done, he clasps Paul’s shoulder, moving in to kiss Paul’s cheek. Then he’s heading off for their bed, and Paul’s quick to join him.


End file.
